


The Glow of Gold Dust

by emansil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-08 23:49:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emansil/pseuds/emansil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on expedition with Ron and Neville, Harry is attacked by a swarm of Vampire Veelas. Draco Malfoy is the expert in Veela behaviour. While under Draco's care Harry learns to see with more than just his eyes. Draco as well finds a few surprises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Glow of Gold Dust

_Warm hands, strong yet gentle, were gliding over his skin. Kneading, stroking, massaging - strong and firm - gentle feather touches; hands caressing and hands stroking, touching him everywhere at once; too many touches for just one person._

_Squirming and wriggling, Harry tried to get even more of the those touches, his shoulder, his chest, the soft skin on the back of his arm - his secret pleasure spot that made him melt into a puddle of goo. The hands moved to his feet, his ankles, his legs and then there. Oh, oh there, the place no one but Ginny had ever touched him. That felt nice, so nice._

_The smell of warm vanilla sugar invaded his senses. He opened his eyes. Ethereal beings with slender bodies and long thin fingers wavered in and out of his sight; bodies with silvery hair, but they remained unclear in his vision._

_The pleasure building in him was intense. The bliss was subtle and sublime, yet insistent. Allowing himself to let go, Harry smiled his contentment._

***

When Harry awoke, he wasn't positive he really was awake as there was blackness all around him, an unnatural blackness. Nothing was this dark.

"Am I awake or still sleeping?" he asked himself.

"Well, unless you've figured out how to make more intelligent statements asleep than awake, I'd venture to say you're awake," came the hard to forget, but oh so easy to want to, voice of Malfoy. "Oh wait, with you it could be hard to tell the difference," Malfoy continued.

Harry tried again to open his eyes and realized they already were open, but the blackness was still all around. "Malfoy, why are you invading my dreams? My nightmares I can understand, but I was having the most pleasant dream. Luscious beings were caressing every inch of my body." Harry sighed; then stopped suddenly; shocked he had said that out loud.

Draco snickered, "Yes, I can see the result on your pajama bottoms of all that caressing. Are you sure the dream was about luscious beings and not a Lucius being caressing you?"

"Lucius, ugh! Malfoy, that's just sick. That's your father."

"He can be luscious when he wants to be, or so I've been told."

Harry shuddered; this was not a conversation he ever wanted to have, and now seemed especially inappropriate. "Seriously Malfoy, tell me why you're here, but first tell me why I'm here, and where here is. And why is it so blasted dark?" Harry hated to be kept in the dark, and this situation was all kinds of dark.

Harry heard a sigh before he felt the bed dip as Draco sat on the edge. "Okay, listen, I need you to take a calming breath before I tell you anything. Also, you're going to feel yourself being restrained."

Harry yelped and tried to sit, but Draco and his bonds were faster. Harry was starting to get a bit concerned both the situation. 

"Harry, it's for your own good," he heard Hermione say, and he relaxed some.

"Hermione? What are you doing here? Are you in my dream too? At least if you're in it, it can't be too much of a nightmare. You weren't the luscious being caressing my body, were you? Oh gods, that's almost worse than thinking it was Lucius." 

Harry realized he was babbling, but could not seem to stop himself. He was finding himself thinking and doing things totally outside of his character. Maybe he was going a bit mad. Not that one could blame him. It seemed to be a logical transition in his mind; after all he'd been through. So what if it was eight years later? Harry didn't think there was a time limit on madness. Malfoy was sure to agree with him, at least about the going mad part. 

"Potter?"

"What?" he snapped.

"You realize you're babbling, right?"

Harry lay silently, wondering exactly when it was that he and Malfoy had ever agreed on anything.

The silenced stretched on indefinitely with Harry trying his best to understand what was happening. "I'm calm now. Would someone please explain what the fuck is going on?" 

"Oh Harry," sobbed Hermione.

"Look mate, I'm really sorry," sighed Ron. Harry was startled to hear Ron's voice, but should have realized wherever Hermione was, Ron probably was as well. 

"Harry, do you remember anything?" asked Malfoy.

"Remember about what? I remember a lot of stuff. I'm not a complete idiot, you know," Harry huffed.

"Voldemort's ghost! Potter, no one's casting aspersions on your intellectual capacity. I just want to know what you remember about the events in question."

"Since I have no idea what the event in question is, I'd have to venture a guess and say not very much," Harry spat again trying his best to sit. The bonds wrapped tighter. Agitated, he fought against them.

"Harry, don't," Hermione said and put her hand on his arm, just as Malfoy shouted. "Stop! Don't touch him!"

The pain hit. Pain like nothing he had ever felt before; pain worse than his scar, worse than Pettigrew cutting his arm for the blood to reawaken Voldemort, worse than any Cruciatus. Pain that made him want to throw himself in to the closest fire. The desire for fire was understandable as his blood was already on fire. Each vein, every artery was boiling. Harry screamed.

A soothing voice and a gentle touch on his arm where Hermione had touched him earlier brought him relief. The rapid boiling in his blood slowed to a slow boil, and then to a gentle simmer. It was still torturous, but it was a pain he could bear. The touch on his skin was soothing and awoke feelings Harry had had never been aware of. As he relaxed into the touch he began to hear the voice saying, "Shh, shh, Harry. It'll be okay, just relax. Let the pain go. Concentrate on my voice and my touch." Eventually all pain stopped and there was only relief. Harry relaxed into that feeling.

"Granger, I told you he couldn't be touched by anyone, other than another like him, until the change was complete," Malfoy spat out, "and maybe not even then."

"Draco, I'm so sorry, I forgot, I just wanted to help him feel better, to let him know he's not alone."

"But Hermione, that's what you've got to understand. He is alone. No one has ever undergone what he has and lived to tell about it. Or has not been changed to such a degree; their only wish would be for death."

Harry wondered exactly what universe he had stumbled into to have Hermione apologize to Malfoy, and him accept the apology without gloating. 

"But you're one. You just said you were," Ron spoke. Harry envisioned him advancing on Malfoy, his palms curled into fist, and his world sort of righted itself.

"Not exactly like him. I'm just a regular Veela."

Harry started laughing at this. Of course Malfoy's a Veela; that explained it. No wonder Harry got all fluttery and flustered in his presence, and no wonder his voice and touch caused such previously unknown feelings in him. Harry was laughing so hard with relief he almost didn't hear the rest of what Draco was saying.

"Harry was bitten by a Vampire Veela. That's a totally different situation. By all accounts he should either be dead, or we should be. I have no idea how to treat him to make sure neither of those things happen. No one does, we're flying blind here."

"What?!" Harry shouted. "A Vampire Veela? Are you sure?" But as the question left his mouth, he remembered. It all came to him at once; not so much in a chronologically, ordered manner, but flashes of events piled on top of one another. 

The stakeout with Ron to help Neville gather the herbs he needed. Ron and Neville both saying they could hear beautiful voices singing. The two of them going off to find the voices - leaving him alone - multitudes of large wings whirling around him - darkness that had blocked out the light of the moon - being surrounded by monsters, large scaly terrifyingly ugly monsters with long sharp beaks and claws - screeching of many raucous cries - held down against his will as he was bitten repeatedly - until he must have passed out from the pain. 

Feeling himself starting to become ill Harry gasped and forced the sick back down. "Oh Merlin, I remember, there were so many of them. It hurt so badly. How long have I been here? Is there a cure?" he whispered, terrified to ask the most important question.

Hermione sobbed, and Harry could hear scuffling noises and then the sobs were subdued. She must have run to Ron, and Ron must be doing his husbandly duties and consoling his wife. Part of Harry wanted to smile at that thought, and part of him wanted to scream at Ron for once again abandoning him. He knew that was unfair to Ron; he wasn't sure he would not have done the same thing. Harry wished briefly for someone to console him. Remembering the pain of Hermione's touch, he felt he was better off left alone.

"You've been here a little over five days. As to there being a cure, not as such; there isn't a known one. I've got something I'd like to try if you're willing. It's experimental, but hopefully it will help to lessen the transition, if not stop it completely." Just hearing Draco's voice again reminded Harry of how good Draco's touch had made him feel.

"Why do you know so much about this and why are you even here?" Harry asked turning in the direction of Malfoy's voice. Harry could not help wondering why part of the time he thought of the voice as Malfoy, and other times thinking of him as Draco was the only thing that felt right. 

"The reason why I know so much is because I've been studying Veela and Veela behaviour for some time now. While you and Weasley here have been off saving the world from Death Eaters gone wild, I've been studying magical creatures, Veela included. Let's just say I have a vested interest in the subject. As to why I'm here, it's quite simple. I'm the expert and while Granger may not like me, she loves you and she wanted nothing but the best for you. That's me."

"But why are you so interested in Veela behavior? Are you really a Veela?"

"Part Veela; my mother is one. Most Veela tendencies are passed through the mother's genes, often to one or two of the females in the family. Not every female born to a Veela will have the Veela trait. That explains my aunts Bellatrix and Andromeda. However, Andromeda does have a few of the qualities, at least in regards to her mate. Since I'm an only child I got my mother's Veela genes. Daughters receive full Veela power, sons - not so much. Good thing too, or I'd have been even more devastatingly irresistible than I already am."

Harry wasn't positive, but he thought he heard a bit of a smile in Draco's voice as he made that last statement. Regardless of his fear, his exhaustion, and his remembrance of recent events, Harry felt himself smile as well. 

"Anyway, to continue, although the males don't get the full power, the transition is quite painful. No one should have to go through what I did. I've been studying to find a way to ease the pain of the process." 

"Tell me everything. Everything I'm going to go through. Starting with why I'm bound and why I'm blind. Is this a permanent state?"

"No, it's not permanent. I've blinded you intentionally. The light, any light, even the slightest starlight in a pitch black sky, will burn your eyes to such an extent you'll weep blood from them." A slight pause, and then he continued, "If you think the blood flowing through you is burning, that same blood pouring from your eyes will make you want to claw your eyes out. 

"We have to keep you blind and restrained until I know if my treatment is working."

"What is the treatment and how will you know if it works?"

"The only way we'll know it is working or not is to have a non-Veela touch you. As long as the touch of a non-Veela is unbearable for you, we'll know the treatment isn't working. I'm sorry Harry, but there's no other way."

~*~*~*

Harry was subjected to pain and torture almost beyond his bearing over the next ten weeks. The treatment, it seemed, consisted of them somehow draining his blood completely, and running it through a filter to remove as much of the vampire blood as they could. His blood was then pumped back in to him, with mercury added to the mix. The percentage of mercury varied each time, as Draco experimented with the correct dosage. 

Hearing they were pumping mercury into his blood, Harry went ballistic. "Mercury! Are you insane? That shite is poison! People stopped eating fish for fear of mercury poisoning, and you're bloody pumping me full of the shite; directly into my bloodstream at that."

"Poison to normal people, Potter; you're not normal anymore. Mercury is the only known antidote to both Vampire and Veela properties. We just have to find the right formula."

Twice a week, Harry went through the change, and at the end of the week, someone would come in to lay hands on him. Not just Hermione, but others as well: Ron, Neville, Hagrid, even Ginny, all with the same results; Harry screaming and crying as once again a rive of lava flowed through his bloodstream while he tried to tear his way out, trying to escape his bonds, until he passed out from the pain. 

Only Draco being there got him through it. Draco was always there. It did not seem to matter when Harry woke, or how long he'd been asleep, Draco was there. Asking how he was. Did he hurt anywhere? Did he need anything? Harry wondered if he stayed there twenty-four hours a day.

"Draco, don't you have a wife at home? Shouldn't you be with her, rather than here with me all the time?" he'd finally asked one day.

"You need me. She doesn't."

"A wife always needs her husband."

"She'll be fine. She's very independent; besides it's not like this is going to be a permanent situation." If not for Harry's new vampire sense of hearing, he would probably have never heard the muttered, "At least I don't think it will be," under Draco's breath. He chose not to acknowledge it, however.

*~*~* 

The two of them spent hours and days together; most of the time alone, just the two of them. A camaraderie and understanding of sorts began to develop between them. Secret jokes, healing touches and shared memories only they could understand. 

As his sight was no longer a sense he could use, Harry's world was reduced to sounds and smells. He learned to tell from the sounds of their footsteps and their unique scents who'd come to see him before they'd even spoken. 

Hermione steps were quick and light. She smelled of books: crisp, newly turned pages, or moldy old cracked leather; sometimes a combination of both. Neville smelled of dirt, and his walk was slow, almost shuffling. Ron's was slow but steady and his smell - well, Ron always smelled like whatever food he'd consumed before coming to visit. It made Harry smile to know his best mate's appetite was as strong as it had ever been. 

Ginny's, oh, Ginny's was the best of them all. She smelled of fresh peaches, of sunshine, and of wind blowing gently through the trees. Too bad she'd only come to see him the one time. Harry loved her scent.

His friends came to see him a great deal at the beginning, Hermione and Ron especially, but as they all had lives of their own it was difficult. Harry was aware Ron once again felt he had let Harry down. He wanted to tell Ron it was okay, he didn't blame him. He would have probably done the same if he'd had the chance, if he'd been the one to hear the beautiful voices, seen the visions of the Veelas. But he couldn't find it in him to say the words, at least not yet. Time would have to heal this wound as well. 

Harry gave into some serious self-pity. Why did it always have to be him? Why was he always the chosen one? Keeping those thoughts to himself, however, he said nothing. . 

Draco had explained his theories on the attack in one of the myriad conversations they'd had. "Obviously they targeted you. It was a set-up. They knew the three of you were coming, and knew they had to separate you from the others. The best way to do this was to play on the others' hormones. They knew Ron and Neville would never be able to resist beautiful singing and a few glimpses now and again of irresistible women. Ron especially seems to enjoy looking at the fairer sex."

"But why did they want to target me?"

"Potter, you are the Chosen One. That could be a good thing; hero of our world, or a bad thing; target for everyone who wants to harness your power. Do you realize how much more powerful you're going to be now? Good or bad, however this turns out, there is no doubt your power is going to be immense. You've just added phenomenal hearing and sense of smell to your magic. Don't forget the vampire ability of persuasion added to the Veela ability of attraction, along with your own talent for being generally likeable; you could be more powerful than Voldemort." He was silent for a few minutes before continuing, "Of course, add me to your mix and we'd be fucking unstoppable. We could take over the world."

"But we're not, and we won't."

"I know, but it sure is fun to think about."

*~*~* 

Ginny only came to see him once. In spite of the wonderful scent she brought with her, it had been a disaster. 

"Ginny," Draco had said with a perfectly calm voice, calling her by her name to soothe her potentially ruffled feathers. "You can't touch him. He won't be able to stand the pain. You can visit with him and talk to him, I'm sure he'd love that, but you cannot touch him."

"Bu I'm his wife. I'm his chosen mate."

"It doesn't work like that. Until he's completed the treatment or change, we won't know who his life mate is going to be. Right now, the only people able to touch him without sending pain spiraling through his system are other Veelas. Last time I looked, you were not a Veela."

Harry lay silent throughout this entire exchange dreading what was to come next. There was no way Ginny would accept the fact that Malfoy could do something she couldn't, especially anything to do with her husband.

He heard her approach and, as he was breathing in her wonderful clean scent, she laid both of her hands on the side of his head. The pain that shot through him was a firestorm, powerful, intense, immediate and devastating. His only recourse was to lose consciousness.

When he awoke, Draco was, as always, by his side, talking to him and calming his raging fire with his gentle hands.

Ginny never came to see him again. She could not deal with the fact that she had caused him pain. She loved him, and it destroyed her to be near him and not be the one to bring him ease. 

It broke Harry's heart knowing he'd caused her distress. Through it all, Draco was there for him: listening to his weeping, comforting his screams of pain, telling jokes to help him forget, or sometimes just being a quiet, steady presence in the room. 

As the treatment was experimental, different percentages of mercury were tried some with more success than others. If the percentage was too low, Harry's blood temperature dropped to dangerous levels. Draco would then lay a thin covering of something on him to warm his temperature slowly. If the percentage of mercury was too high, it burned. Draco would plunge his own hands in ice water before laying them on Harry, Performing this act; over and over again until every inch of Harry's exposable skin was cooled. He never seemed to tire. 

In all his years of knowing Malfoy, the most noticeable thing about him had been his sense of superiority. Who knew that underneath all that façade was a decent bloke, or at least someone who had grown into a decent bloke? 

*~*~*

"When did you find out you were a Veela? Have you always known?" Harry'd asked, out of the blue, one day.

"There were hints of it my entire life. The way I could always persuade others to do what I wanted; the way others seemed to flock toward me, and want to spend time around me."

"Never worked with me," Harry teased.

"Potter, you have always been the exception to every rule."

Harry could hear the snicker in Draco's voice. In times past he would have probably thought it was disdain. Now he knew better. "Prat. So when did you know for sure?"

"When I started feeling the changes."

Harry waited for more information, but Draco said no more. 

"Okay, I give. When did you start feeling the changes?"

"Our sixth year."

"But? Oh."

A snort and Draco continued, "Oh is right. Not only was I to save my family, supposed to murder, in cold blood, a bloke that had never been anything but decent to me, but I also had to deal with the Veela changes. As I've mentioned before, the changes are most difficult to bear; everything was out of my control that year. Everything."

"Was that why you walked around looking like some recruit for Hitler's Youth Army?"

"Hitler? Who's that?"

"Never mind - not really important - the Muggle version of Voldemort. What I meant was every hair in place, clothes never wrinkled, shoes never scuffed. Perfection"

"Potter, please, I'm always a picture of perfection. You're right though, that year was even more so. You know Harry; I've never felt my life crumbling around me so much as I did that year. My appearance was the only thing I had any control over, and I had to keep rigid control over it. It was all I had. But I'm surprised you noticed."

"Draco, if you'll remember I was a tad obsessed with you that year. I watched every move you made. I noticed everything about you -- except the anguish you were going through. I'm sorry."

Draco reached out and touched Harry's arm. He stroked his hand from elbow to wrist lightly. His touch had brought Harry contentment and pleasure since he'd been under Draco's care. This time it brought something more, something new and unexpected. The place where Draco was caressing him started to warm. Not a burning like the others, but a pleasant lingering warmth. He felt as if his arm was being massaged with exotic oil, rich and sensuous. He turned his head towards his arm and inhaled Draco's scent where it lingered on his skin and it became part of him, part of his memory.

"Oh Fuck! Harry," Draco said, his voice portraying anger, shock, and not a small degree of despair. 

"What? What's wrong? That felt really nice. I wouldn't mind if you wanted to keep doing that. It's not going to bother me a bit," Harry teased.

"Oh Harry, fuck, fuck!" Draco said again paraphrasing his earlier lament, after he'd touched Harry again, this time on his neck.

"Draco, you're scaring me. What is it? Did I hurt you? Have I started transferring the pain from me to you?"

"You're glowing," he whispered. "Wherever I've touched you, you're fucking glowing. Gods, this can't be - I can't. No, not you. Not me."

"I'm glowing? For real, like how?"

"Like diamonds - no, not diamonds, like your skin is covered with gold dust."

"Cool, but isn't the glow just another part of the transition? I know you spoke about it before; I just can't remember what it was right now. What did you mean, 'you can't, not me, not you.' What are you talking about? "

"I'm sorry, Harry, I can't stay. I have to get out of here. I'll be back later. Don't worry, you'll be fine," Draco said in a rush, the pitch of his voice giving away his panic.

"Draco, NO! I've never been left alone. You're always here. What if something happens?"

"I'm sorry; I just can't. Not now."

Harry heard the rustling of clothes and the quick tapping of boots across the floor, and the door slammed. Silence.

"What was that all about?" Harry wondered as he lay alone in the stillness. The fear of being alone for the first time in –he had no idea how long he'd been there-began to weigh on him. How long had he been there? 

Draco had told him the treatment would be twice a week for ten weeks. Harry knew he'd had between thirteen to fifteen treatments. That meant he was at least seven weeks into it. The treatments had not started immediately, either. His most recent treatment had been earlier that day, or was it last night? In his blindness, days and nights flowed into one another. 

There was only a maximum of three more weeks of the treatment left. What if they couldn't stop the change? Ron and Neville had said he'd been in very bad shape when the returned to the camp, once the spell had released them. He'd had multiple bites, and the poison had had some time to invade his blood stream. 

With a new understanding that once again his life might not be what he had planned, Harry tried to remember everything Draco had told him about being a Veela. More importantly, about being a Vampire Veela.

*~*~*.

"Hey Malfoy," he'd asked. "What do Vampire Veelas eat to survive? Will I be vanting to suck your blood?" Harry'd laughed, but was scared of what the answer might be.

"Not my blood. No," was the laconic answer.

"Really, what then? What will I eat? What's my nourishment?"

"Harry, you'll need to be still and calm and listen to this." Draco had said  
With equanimity before he continued, "I'm not sure how you're going to react to this, probably not very positively, but try really hard to refrain from any adolescent humour." 

"I'm ready. How bad can it be? At least I don't have to drink someone's blood."

"Depending on your preference, some people don't find it unpleasant at all," he paused and Harry could hear him swallowing nervously. "Semen is your life-saving nutrition. Because of the treatment we've been providing for you, you've had not immediate need for it up till now, but as the treatment progress, you will soon start to need the nourishment. " 

"Semen? Excuse me? What are you saying?"

"Semen, come, jism, spunk, the elixir of love, love juice, whatever you want to call it," Draco snapped.

"But. but, umm, how exactly do I go about getting this elixir of love? Do I randomly walk around Diagon Alley saying, 'Excuse me, sir, do you mind dropping trou , I need to suck your cock. See, I'm feeling kind of hungry and spunk is my main meal. You understand how it is. Okay, mate."

"No, you prat. You don't need that much; just a few milliliters a few times a week are enough. However, that's not your biggest problem."

"Seems pretty fucking huge to me; so what is my biggest problem?" Harry had emphasized the word biggest.

"For maximum nutritious benefit, it needs to be from your Veela life mate."

"What? Ginny? But Ginny's a woman, she doesn't have semen!"

"I know," Malfoy had snorted. "Look, Harry, you can survive with someone else's semen, but it's just not going to be very healthy, nor is it going to be very satisfying. It would be like eating nothing but cheese and tomato sandwiches day after day. It might be tasty and it's better than nothing. But, for it to really have benefit to you, it needs to be from your Veela life mate. I'm sure your friends would be glad to help you out, in the meantime."

Harry had guffawed, "Oh, right; I'm sure Ron would love for me, a guy, to give him a blow job."

"There could be worse things in life," Draco had muttered. "I wouldn't turn it down, especially if the offer came from you."

Once again, not quite sure he'd heard correctly, or how to interpret what he'd just heard, Harry had said nothing. 

"A blow job is not the only way. Your friends can ejaculate into small cups; I can put it in phials and you drink from them."

"I'm still not sure my friends are going to be all for jacking off into small cups."

"Harry, your friends would do anything for you. However, you will need to find a Veela life mate for you to thrive. Your wife is not going to be happy."

Harry had snorted, "You think? I'm sure my wife, Ginny, the queen of the bat bogey hexes, is going to be thrilled when I tell her. 'Look honey, I love you babe, but I'm going to need to go out and suck the cocks of random blokes while I look for my one true Veela mate. And when I find him, I'll need a few hours each week to give him head for my nourishment. No reflection on you, you understand. Oh, and let's not forget you can't touch me either, or I might die of the pain. You're totally down with that right?' Fuck Draco, what am I going to do?" Harry's earlier sarcasm had morphed into a cry of confusion and anguish. 

Harry had fumed in silence. Draco waited patiently for Harry to control his frustration.

"Wait a minute. You're a Veela. Do you have to do this?"

"Harry, again, I'm just a regular Veela; you're a Vampire Veela. That's the difference. It's the combination of the two. They're both very sensual creatures which thrive on love and sex and romance and life. What is more life-giving than semen, millions upon millions of life-giving sperm, just looking for a home?"

"But don't they need to have an egg to penetrate to make more little Veela babies?"

"Well, yes, but that's one thing I've never been able to understand. All I know is what the literature says. The sustenance for Vampire Veelas is semen. I can't explain the why yet though. If I would have to hazard a guess, I'd have to say it's because Vampire Veelas aren't born; they're made."

Neville, Ron, George, and Seamus had all agreed to furnish nutrition for their friend, although Harry had heard their laughter of embarrassment when Draco had explained the situation. There was no possibility that any of them would be his mate. They had all had the touch test, and had failed miserably, but Harry was beginning to need the nutrition. He'd found the taste not really unpleasant. He wasn't sure he'd want a steady diet of it and nothing else, however. 

There was one phial one day that was totally different. It left Harry with a feeling of complete satisfaction, as if he'd just sat down to a full roast chicken dinner with all the trimmings. It had been a long time since he'd felt so satisfied. Harry had questioned whose it was.

Draco had acted very strange after that, leaving Harry's side to bustle about on the other side of the room. Looking back, Harry began to have his suspicions.

*~*~*

As Harry lay in the still room, without Draco's quiet and steady presence, the silence was overbearing. He felt himself start to panic, but knew the pain always came faster and harder whenever he was stressed or angry or anxious in any way. He fought to calm his mind. If the fire surging through his blood came again, and Draco was not there to help ease it, he was unsure if he would survive the pain. 

He continued to concentrate on all that Draco had explained to him about the Veela, and the Vampire Veela condition. 

They had had many discussions about how one recognized his true life mate. Besides the semen thing, which apparently gave one a sense of fullness or complete satisfaction, was the touch. The touch of the life mate made the Veela skin glow. Glow like diamonds or gold dust.

"Oh fucking Merlin!" Harry forgot he was still restrained and tried once again to sit. Oh bollocks, no wonder Malfoy had left so rapidly. Did that mean Draco was his life mate? Surely not. But would that really be all that bad? 

Lying there, Harry thought of how much he'd come to depend on Draco. He thought of what his life would have been like during these last few weeks if Draco had not been there. Without his former nemesis to take care of him, Harry would never have been able to cope with what had happened to him. Draco had saved him, had saved his life and his sanity. 

Over their time together, Harry had learned to recognize Draco's mood from the way he spoke. From the little uplift at the end of the sentence when he was telling Harry an exciting story, or about something really funny that had happened to him. A short clipped tone, when he was vastly perturbed. Harry could usually tell it was Ginny floo-calling when Draco took that particular tone. The way his voice would fade at the end of a sentence when something was bothering him or caused him pain or confusion; the slow gentle drawl when the two of them were alone and just talking about everything and nothing. Harry had learned to recognize every nuance in Draco's voice.

His scent was different as well, Harry'd noticed. A scent of mustiness pervaded the room when Draco had to speak with someone he did not want to, again especially Ginny. A crisp clean scent like winter in Hogwarts when there had been a breakthrough in Harry's treatment; and a warm yet refreshing scent, like rain on freshly cut grass on a spring day, whenever it was the just the two of them. 

The pressure of Draco's touch whenever he laid hands on Harry also spoke volumes. His touch was gentle and loving, more loving than anything Harry had experienced, even more than Ginny's had been. Harry was beginning to think Draco's feelings for him may have grown some during the time they'd been together. He knew his feelings had, even if Draco's had not. 

Harry fell asleep soon after that, thankful the pain had decided to leave him alone, until Draco returned. He never doubted that he would. 

*~*~*

Draco was bustling about the room when Harry awoke. He opened his eyes; even though blind, Harry found it difficult to keep them closed when he was awake.

Harry said nothing to Draco about what had happened, not totally sure of the ramifications. Draco too remained silent on the subject.

Life went back to normal, except for one thing. Draco stopped touching him. Harry had not realized how much those touches and grazes of Draco's skin against his had come to mean to him. This was worse then the blindness, worse than the pain. Harry felt lost.

Draco kept every one away from Harry after the latest treatment. He told Harry it was to give the treatment more time to work. Harry was sure Draco simply did not want to have to ease his pain, if and when touched by another.

Harry somehow made it thought the next three or four days; again, he was unsure of the amount of time that had passed. He forced himself to think of Ginny and going home to her, never once allowing his thoughts to drift to the possibility he would not be cured or that she could never touch him again without bringing him pain. It was what got him through his days. While his mind accepted his situation, his skin did not. It kept craving Draco's touch.

"Harry, I need to talk to you," Draco said one day. His voice was slow and measured; his scent dry like fallen leaves in autumn. "The treatment's not working. I'm sorry, I thought I could help you, but I've failed." 

Harry could think of nothing to say, not at that time. He would have to absorb the information the best he could. Draco wisely chose to leave him be.

*~*~*

"Draco, do you think maybe you could brush my teeth? They feel horrid, and it's been a few days now, I think," Harry asked a few days later. He was sure Draco was still trying to avoid touching him. 

"Could be a bit difficult in your current plucked vulture, shape shifter change; you have no teeth, at least that I can see. I'm sorry I can only see you in your current physical transformation. "

"What? Are you fucking kidding me? How long will I stay like this?" 

"A few hours, maybe a day or two; it's hard to tell."

"I must look horrible. How can you stand to be in the same room with me?"

"Please, Potter, it was never your appearance that attracted me to you." Draco stopped suddenly and there was a sound of flesh slapping against flesh. Harry knew Draco had just slapped his hand over his mouth. "I mean, you'd walk around looking like some Muggle Manorless person," he said quickly as a cover up for his faux pas.

"Muggle Manorless, what?" Harry was confused.

"You know, all scruffy."

"You mean homeless!" Harry laughed, amazed at Draco's lack of knowledge of the Muggle world.

"What do you mean, homeless?"

"Exactly what it sounds like - homeless, with out a home, or a flat, or a bed-sit. And, I'm afraid to say it, not even a manor."

"That's horrible. Where do they sleep?"

"Sometimes there are charities that give them a place to sleep for the night, or there are some hostels they can use for very small fees. Quite often they sleep on the street, in doorways, or under bridges."

"But what if it's cold or raining? Oh Merlin, how do they bathe?"

"They get cold and wet. Unfortunately there's not a lot of bathing, unless some of the shelters have bathing facilities."

"That's an outrage. People, not even Muggles, should live that. Even the Weasleys had a home, and they were poor. Someone should do something."

Harry shook his head, totally stupefied by this conversation. "Draco Malfoy, defender of the Muggle Manorless; this is just too fucking bizarre. Have I slipped into another dimension or something?"

"Seriously, Potter that's just all kinds of wrong."

The silence deepened between them with each of them pursuing their own thoughts.

"Found me attractive, did you?" Harry teased, finally feeling this was as good a time as any to get to the elephant that had been in the room with them since Draco had left so abruptly. 

"What? No, of course not, "Draco replied a soft yet still discernible tremor in his voice.

"Draco?" 

"Well, okay, a bit. There was something about the way you swaggered and those fucking green eyes of yours, like orbs of emerald fire they were."

Harry snorted at the description of his eyes, "Orbs of emerald fire. Draco, have you been reading bad romance novels? Besides, I don't swagger."

"Well, okay, maybe swagger's the wrong word, but you had one determined walk. Quite manly, it was."

Harry laughed, "Well, of course it's manly. I'm a man."

"Ron Weasley is a man, and he doesn't walk like that, nor his brother Bill, and you can't get much more manly than that; neither does Neville Longbottom, for that matter. You walked like a man with a purpose. You knew who you were, and where your life was going, even when you didn't have a clue if you'd still be alive the next day. I always admired that. I couldn't stand you, but I admired your determination."

"I was terrified most of the time," Harry confided.

"You'd have been a fool not to have been, but you never let anyone see. You never let them or him get to you."

They sat comfortable once again in the stillness before Draco continued. "Oh, by the way, if you didn't know, when you finish all the shape-shifter changes and return to normal, you're going to be devastating..." 

"But you just said I'd return to normal. Didn't you?" Harry interrupted him, not sure he could stand the thought of spending the rest of his life, and possibly eternity, looking like a plucked vulture. Because Draco was right; that was exactly what the creatures that attacked him had looked like.

"You didn't let me finish. You will be devastatingly handsome; jaw-dropping gorgeous to be honest with you. I've already seen some of the improvements. They're quite impressive."

"How? I thought I was in an ugly phase?"

"This is just the culmination of the ugly of the final ugly phase. I've grown use to them: there have been several transformations you've gone through. Some have been pretty interesting. I really liked the swan one. You made a beautiful swan, black of course. Some of the others have been fairly hideous, I must admit. Watching the process has been fascinating. I was surprised you never felt any of them." 

Harry shrugged before he said, "Draco, how could you stand to be around me during all the ugly phases? I know how much you dislike things that aren't perfection. Why did you not leave?"

Harry waited a long time for Draco to answer; sure he would respond with a sarcastic quip or two. He was shocked when a whisper quiet voice responded.

"One thing you've got to understand, Harry, is that when a Veela falls in love they don't fall in love with the outer appearance of the person. They see inside to the heart of a person, and that is how they know they've found their mate. Harry Potter, you have got the most incredible heart I've ever seen."

Harry felt his heart swell, hearing Draco's confession. 

"Do you understand what I just said?" Draco asked in very small voice.

"Yes, and I think I have for a while. I wasn't sure though, and I didn't want to say anything for fear I'd be wrong. I guess the whole glowing of gold-dust is a dead giveaway about how I feel about you." He started to smile but then remembered he was in plucked vulture stage and kept his mouth firmly shut.

Draco must have seen the attempted and then abruptly stopped smile, as there was a sound of bells tinkling, like wind chimes in a gentle breeze. Draco was laughing; more giggling than laughing, actually. 

Harry felt two hands touch his face and warm lips touch each side of his face. Inhaling deeply, he breathed in the scent of Draco happy, warm and sweet and soft. "You smell like honey cake, not as good as treacle tart, but if you come with it, I'll take the smell of honey cake any day. You were saying earlier of how I was going to be, 'devastatingly handsome' was the phrase I think you used. Please continue," 

"Potter, you vain creature. I never knew you had it in you."

"Hey, I just want to be sure I can keep up with my Veela mate in the appearance department. You are still gorgeous, aren't you?"

"Well, of course I am. What ever made you doubt it?"

"I've not seen you in a really long time."

"Eight years, seven months, three weeks and four days, to be exact."

"Wow. How do you know that?"

"The last time we saw each other was in the Great Hall, after the Big Battle. You were on your way out the door. You looked exhausted. You turned back around and looked at me, or at least in my direction. I liked to think you were looking at me. I kept wondering if you would come and say something, or at least bring my wand back. But you turned around and kept going. I remember it like it was yesterday. We never spoke again."

"I should have brought your wand back to you in person, instead of sending it by owl. But I just couldn't. The memories were too sharp, and then I just wanted to forget all that. Then it just seemed too much time had passed; I didn't know what to say, so I took the cowards' way out."

"I understand. It's okay; at least you sent it back. Now, back to your original question; you're just going to have to wait and see for yourself. I think you'll be pleased, even if you've never given a rat's arse about how you looked."

"Hey, I cared!" Harry exclaimed.

"Really? I would have never known," Draco responded with very real surprise in his voice. 

*~*~*

"You said earlier the treatment wasn't working, I've been thinking about that; what exactly does that mean? How will my life be affected?" asked Harry a day or two later. 

"First off, you can never go into the sunlight again, the pain would be too great. Moonshine, starlight and artificial light will probably be okay; they probably would not harm you, sunshine is a different thing."

"What about my job as an Auror? How will I do that?"

"You'll have to take all the night shifts. I'm not sure if Weasley will still be able to be your partner. He has a wife to think of. Speaking of which, that brings me to the second thing on the list of how you'll live your life."

"Really? Okay, I'm listening."

"This one is not going to be easy for you. You're going to have to decide what to do about Ginny. I realize she's your wife and you love her, but having a wife that can't touch you could be difficult in the best of situations. Add to it the fact that it appears you and I are Veela mates, and I think life with the ginger-haired Weaslette could be problematic, to say the least."

"I've been thinking about that. I know it's going to be an unfortunate scene. I do love her, a lot. It's just I've come to love you more. I hope she'll understand. Surely she would want to be with someone that doesn't scream, at least not with pain, when she touches them." 

Draco nodded before he continued, "We've spoken about this next one before. Your power is going to be immense. Seriously Harry, you could be very dangerous. I think you'll be able to keep it in control, though." 

"What makes you say that?"

"Because of the kind of person you are. Remember, Harry, I can see into your heart. I know who and what you are. And, because of what you said, when I was kidding about us taking over the world. Your answer was very compact and non-negotiable. 'But we won't' told me every thing I needed to know. It's quite sad, really. Just think what I could buy and things I could have done for me." Draco sighed loudly and Harry again the tinkling of tiny bells as Draco laid his head on his shoulder, laughing. 

"Draco, one last question. Any idea on when I should expect the regression back to Vampire Veela to occur? What I can I do to prevent it from happening?"

"No, I don't know for sure, I'm not sure how much permanent difference the treatment made. But whenever it happens, I'll be there with you to see it through." 

*~*~*

Two weeks later, he removed the bonds from Harry and allowed him to move his limbs. Harry had returned to his natural shape, and it felt good to move his arms and legs and fingers. The feeling of actually being able to wrap his arms around Draco and hold him was... well, it was worth anything and everything he'd gone through to discover this feeling. It reminded him of the dream he'd had the first night; the dream of a multitude of luscious bodies caressing him. But he no longer needed multitudes, only one. Draco.

Draco kept the blindness a few days longer. He was terrified that Harry would be tormented by the light, even the moonlight. Although he had said moonlight would not hurt, he wanted to be sure and take it slowly. He waited until the moon was in its final waning stage before he removed the spell. 

"Harry, I'm going to be removing the blindness spell gradually. You won't be able to see perfectly for a while; as a matter of fact, it would be better if you keep your eyes closed until you've got used to the light coming through your closed eyelids."

"That sounds logical. I can do that."

"Also, you need to realize it's been over ten weeks since you've used your vision. Everything is going to be blurry and foggy for a while. Don't panic, just give it time."

Harry nodded, anxious to get on with the procedure. He wanted to see Draco; wanted to match facial expressions with the sound of his voice; wanted to know if his interpretation of Draco's moods really did match the scents he put off at different times. Above all, he wanted to know if Draco looked as happy as he seemed to feel whenever Harry took him in his arms.

"Are you ready?"

Harry nodded once again. 

Minutes later, Harry opened his eyes. As the blurriness started to clear, he could see. He and Draco stood in front of a mirror. Draco blond, slender, grey eyed; standing tall and erect, as handsome and debonair as ever. Harry thought he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, even if he was nervously chewing on his lower lip. Next to him stood someone Harry could hardly identify as himself. It looked like him, only better; fuck, much better. Dressed only in pajama bottoms, he appeared to be taller, not sure how that happened. His shoulders were broader, and his stomach was hard and flat, like he'd just spent the last ten weeks doing exercises, instead of lying flat on his back. His eyes, well … 

"Fuck, Draco, my eyes really are orbs of emerald light."

"I know. I've been drowning in them for the better part of the last ten weeks. Your eyes were the first permanent transition."

"But what about my hair? It still looks a mess, like, like…"

"Like you stuck your head in a blender - please, Potter; it's a Vampire Veela transformation, not a fucking miracle. Now turn around here and give me a kiss like a proper Veela mate."

"Glad to."

The two of them stood agog as Harry's skin turned golden when they embraced. Every inch of Harry's skin, even parts not touching Draco, shimmered with the warm mellow glow of gold dust.

"Draco, as much as I love the look, I can't walk around like this. People will talk." At Draco's raised eyebrows, he snickered and continued, "Well, more than they already talk about me."

"There's probably a potion or a spell we can find for when we're out in public. But Harry, when we're at home, I expect you to always be glowing like some golden idol of old. I'm never going to stop touching you."

"Draco?" Harry said after a few moments of intense snogging.

"Hmm?" Draco replied languidly while nibbling on Harry's neck. 

"I'm feeling a bit peckish. Do you think I could have a little snack?" Harry threw back his head in laughter as Draco's trousers hit the floor before he'd even finished the request.


End file.
